


two birds on a wire

by arcanamagnus



Category: Transformers: Victory
Genre: F/M, just a lot of missing each other, legit don't know it's just sad and soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 20:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanamagnus/pseuds/arcanamagnus
Summary: Halfway across the galaxy, two birds think of each other.





	two birds on a wire

**Author's Note:**

> for a commenter on "knight adamant"... have some big birds in love but also sad bc they've been separated

Loneliness was a special kind of torture, Deathsaurus thought, and he'd have Star Saber's head for it. He wasn't  _ alone _ per se — his troops, incompetent as they were, were with him for better or worse —, but his nest in the Thunder Arrow felt a little too large, a little too empty when he retired to his chambers after a long day of commanding. Tigerbreast and Eaglebreast cuddled him well enough, but if that was all that Esmeral could give him he wouldn't have married her.

No, his wife had a hold so profound on his spark and life that, without her to keep him in check, it felt like it all was slipping from his hands. He ruled and reigned with his iron fist still, but it left something to be desired without Esmeral's tempering. Her incredible resource management skills and eye for architecture and shipbuilding were sorely missed in his army, however important they might be in mitigating what no doubt was a crisis situation for their civilians.

He’d hesitated at first in forming a relationship with one of his officers, but still Esmeral's kindness and wit won him over and suddenly strategy meetings weren’t so strategical anymore. Deathsaurus remembered well their first attempt at a kiss, how the beaks of their helms bumped and they had to settle for an awkward nuzzle that quickly became their preferred token of affection. Esmeral never stopped being  _ business _ , but they could fill in the rest of their time with idle hands and conversation.

How he missed his beautiful Empress and her clever words and gentle hands and genuine revolutionary fire that Deathsaurus doubted even Megatron in his prime could've rivaled. He missed how she'd speak to their subjects ad-libbed and still manage to commit no gaffes. How she'd pull him down by the head fins and tell him straight up when she thought he was being foolish.

His wife was a marvellous ruler and wonderful lover who could tear his empire to pieces if she so wished and yet she chose to be the stabilising backstrut that kept it aloft. She could tear  _ him _ to pieces too, Deathsaurus knew, and still that strength was reserved for giving him the protective tenderness he secretly craved — and for absolutely slagging those that dared threaten the Decepticon vision when it came to it.

No one before her had the size or the gall to treat him like he's small — she was a head shorter than him in root mode, yes, but her slender long-necked beast mode easily towered over his. She’d curl around him when they recharged in their alts, and wrap her arms around his middle and nuzzle between his wings when not. Deathsaurus shivered to remember how sweet it was to have her softly stroke his face and chirp nonsense into his audials as she slowly and tenderly drove into him — she’d be rougher if he asked, but he usually didn’t. 

His quarters in the Thunder Arrow felt stifling, empty, so he stayed on the command chair, tall and proud, watching his minions go about their miserable business and dreaming of how Esmeral would set them straight once more when the Fortress was retrieved.    
  


* * *

There was something to be said about the pain of uncertainty, but Esmeral wasn’t too sure on what. The dull edge of the barely operational fuel levels they maintained to extend the life of their energon supply had taken her philosophical vein long ago. All she could do was have faith in another orn to come, in the orn when her husband would return with their troops and liberate them from this living death.

Sometimes she couldn't help but doubt, but be overtaken by fear and grief and  _ anger _ . Those orns were few and far between. Her rational mind knew Deathsaurus was too stubborn to die, too resourceful and steadfast to give up on her Fortress.

And it was  _ her _ Fortress. She’d laid down the plans for it, micromanaged every last detail to make it safe and  _ deadly _ , and Deathsaurus had lifted her up in his arms and spun her around the room when she presented him with the final project.

She couldn’t help thinking about him. About a thousand lives they didn't get to live, about a thousand that they did. About the possibility of giving life to the sentio metallico eggs they’d forged from Deathsaurus' excess protoform build-up, about preening each other's plating every night before recharge. The simple things and the complicated ones.

It almost made her sick.

Even with her minutious managing, her utmost care, resources weren’t unending. They'd waste away sometime. She just hoped it wouldn't be  _ before _ her dearest gearheaded Emperor came back for them.

When he did… Esmeral didn’t know what she’d do. Cry, probably. Punch him in the face, maybe. Punch  _ Star Saber _ in the face, gladly. Esmeral didn't have plans, for once.

All she could think about in the lonely joors when Lyzack was out patrolling and the hatchlings - still hatchings, even half a million stellar cycles later, a consequence of their lack of materials - were soundly in recharge was the sound of Deathsaurus' voice, telling her she did her best and that he loved her so, so much. It came from a memory of a campaign they’d lost, where her predictions and calculations hadn’t been enough and the fight had reached the officers' strategy tent. He’d held her close - still in beast mode, still with energon staining her plating - and let her sob into his shoulder, rebutting all her claims that it was her mistake.

Was it her mistake this time? She didn't know.

But still in her darkest hours the memory, the  _ promise _ , stuck to her mind. Deathsaurus would never class her as a lost cause. As long as he lived, he'd find a way to make things right by her. His life was in her hands, however far they were from each other.

Esmeral thought of Deathsaurus, curled up in her —  _ their _ — nest conserving energy. Through the hazy fog of starvation she longed for the day she’d have her love in her arms again, warm and perfect against her chest.


End file.
